CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“That smells good,” I whispered, stepping behind my husband. I ran my hands around his bare stomach, holding me close, pressing my cheek to his heated skin. “Are you going to cook for me every morning?”
Alaric’s back muscles shook against my cheek as he laughed at the blatant hope in my voice. His arms worked as he scrambled eggs over the stove; he countered, “How about this? Every morning I wake up with actual bruises on my body—from sex—reminding me that I’m yours, I’ll cook you breakfast.”
“Is that your way of getting sex every night?”
“Absolutely. I fucking love sex.” He glanced over his shoulder, peering down at me from the corner of his eye. “My mate needs to provide for me, don’t ya know?”
I rolled my eyes, but I held him closer. “Of course.”
Then I paused. “Wait a second. Did you say bruises?”
“You’re sexy as hell when digging your little fingers into me.” He raised his massive arms and flexed his biceps, muscles for miles just for my viewing pleasure. “Look at my arms.”
I placed the palms of my hands against the heat of his back and took a step away. My eyes widened when tiny little purple marks on his biceps caught my attention. I sputtered, “So that means I don’t have to cut you to prove I’m your mate?”
He snickered and lowered his arms, returning to the cooking before him. Alaric teased, “Sorry to disappoint your carving needs. No slashing of my flesh is needed. Your sweet little fingers did all the proving.”
I wrapped my arms back around his waist and rested my cheek against his back again, listening to his strong heartbeat. “What would you have done if I weren’t? We’re already married.”
Alaric answered simply—and with a little humor tingeing his tone, “I would have held you close until the day you died. Just as I’ll do now. One was only a shorter timeframe. Either way, I still got the beauty.”
“That simple?”
He snorted. “Beauty is never simple. It all depends on the eyes of the beholder and what they want to do with it.”
My lips twitched. “You need to get back to work and start designing again. You’re getting all poetic on me.”
“I have a few more days off. And I plan on spoiling my new wife during them.” He glanced over his shoulder again. “Although I’m not putting onions in the eggs. I want to kiss you afterward. Maybe a little more than kissing, really.”
“No onions then.” I smiled, but my thoughts went in a different direction. A much darker one. “Alaric?”
“Hmm?”
“Has Mr. Valentine ever actually harmed a mate?”
His back tensed and his hands stalled in his work. “Why?”
“Well, I was thinking about it. Cass told me all about him and what he has done so far. But has he actually everharmeda mate?”
He snorted. “He hurt Poppy. And you, possibly, if that was him.”
“He hurt Poppy mentally, not physically, right?”
Alaric was quiet for a moment. “I suppose that’s right.”
“So no mates have been killed?”
“No.”
“I have a theory on him. It was something Mina said.”
“What’s that?” He pulled two plates down from the cabinet. “Getting someone’s point of view who didn’t experience any of the shit we went through would actually be nice.”
“Well, Mina said he’s playing with you. And there’s the fact that he’s never physically hurt any of the females. If anything, Mr. Valentine seems to be pushing the females toward their mates, helping them find them.”
“Okay… Keep going.”
